


Late Night Epiphanies

by ensorcel



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/F, Femslash, Older Woman/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24066592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensorcel/pseuds/ensorcel
Summary: Miranda and Andrea share a drink at night. (Well, more than one.)An examination of life and all that entails.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly & Andrea Sachs, Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 19
Kudos: 188





	Late Night Epiphanies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bringmayflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmayflowers/gifts).



> Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Twentieth Century Fox and Laura Weisberger. Any characters recognized do not belong to me. 
> 
> A very happy birthday to [bringmayflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmayflowers)! Enjoy this short oneshot for a treat. 
> 
> Thanks to [zigostia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zigostia) for the beta.

**i.**

The first time Miranda shared a drink with Andrea was when she was still her assistant and any other interpretation would be inappropriate. 

The office lights were dim and everyone else had gone home. As Miranda poured out another glass, she too, knew that she should go home. 

(But home had Stephen and two daughters who couldn’t stand her at the moment and Miranda was very, very tempted to book a hotel room for the night.) 

Andrea was tired. Clearly. 

The girl was quiet, cautious. As she should be, Miranda reminded herself. 

A shrill sound erupted through the office. Andrea winced. Miranda sighed. 

“Leave it,” she said, the exhaustion seeping into her voice. 

“Okay,” Andrea diligently replied. They let the phone run to voicemail. The caller didn’t leave a message. Miranda nearly sighed in relief. 

“You should go home,” Miranda said, taking another sip of wine. Andrea followed. 

“I leave when you leave,” she said stubbornly. Miranda nearly chuckled. Andrea, Andrea, Andrea. 

(She felt some of the tiredness leave. Whether it was the result of the alcohol or not, she wasn’t sure. But her shoulders felt lighter.) 

“It’s been a long day,” Andrea said suddenly. Miranda felt the girl’s glaze on her. She ignored it. “ _ You _ should go home.” 

Miranda just stared at her. And then the clock. And then Andrea again. 

“Yes, I suppose I should.”

They left together. Miranda dropped Andrea off at her apartment—she absolutely will not be responsible for some murder in the middle of the night. 

As she watched Andrea leave, she felt something heavy in her chest. The tiredness was back. 

**ii.**

The second time Miranda shared a late night with Andrea it was in Paris and she had drunk a copious amount of liquor and Andrea was completely sober.

Her balcony door was completely open and the wind was blowing through but Miranda couldn’t care less. 

Andrea smelt of the signature Chanel No. 5 perfume and the end of a long day. Along with a bit of cologne. Miranda tried not to be miffed. 

And honestly, Miranda couldn’t really care about that either. 

She was tired. 

Tired of fighting boardroom battles that she would ultimately lose, children that she loved, and a husband that couldn’t stand her. 

Andrea looked at her with large earnest eyes and Miranda couldn’t stand it. 

She just wanted it to end. 

when Andrea asked what she could do, Miranda could only coldly respond with, “Your job.” 

(She didn’t miss the woman’s sad eyes and wished she had.) 

Miranda was sick of the city of love. 

**iii.**

The third time Miranda shared a drink with Andrea was a year after she’d left in Paris and Miranda had left her heart shattered in Europe. 

The woman had blossomed quickly at the New York Mirror, Miranda noticed, almost jealously. Her hair was messier and her makeup was lighter and her clothes were way too casual, but Miranda found herself unable to look away. 

There was no doubt about it. Andrea was a very beautiful woman. (Miranda had a good eye with this. She judged women for a career.) 

“Miranda?” Andrea asked, waving a hand in front of her face. Miranda blinked. 

“Yes?” 

“I lost you there for a second, didn’t I?” she joked, sitting cross-legged on Miranda’s couch in her office. 

“No, just,” Miranda began, swirling her drink, watching as the red wine splashed around. “Long day.” 

Andrea chuckled. “Lotta those around here.” 

Miranda gave a small smile. 

“Yes. Lot of those around here.” 

Andrea looked at her. She was really lovely. 

“I see you’ve thrown everything you’ve learnt here out the window,” Miranda commented, gesturing at Andrea’s outfit. The woman looked down at herself and laughed. 

“Not everyone can afford designer clothes for everyday,” Andrea shot back. “Plus, my boss sends me home early on weekends.” 

Miranda raised an eyebrow. Andrea blushed. 

“Okay, he doesn’t, but I am writing more than emails.” 

Miranda chuckled. 

“I’ve read,” she said, casually. Andrea’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. It was rather comical. 

“You have?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Well, I never,” Andrea said. “Miranda Priestly, reading my writing.” 

“It’s quite good,” Miranda noted. Andrea beamed. Miranda thought her smile was beautiful. 

**iv.**

The fourth time Miranda spent a night burning the midnight oil with Andrea was when her divorce was completely finalized and they were both a little tipsy. 

“You should’ve seen his face!” Andrea exclaimed, bursting into giggles. Miranda felt the same. 

“I’m sure it was amusing,” she said, taking a sip of wine. 

“God, you would’ve thought he just won the lottery!” 

In many ways he did, Miranda mused. She had paid Nigel back, after all. 

“You know, I left because of that,” Andrea said, quietly, looking out of the hotel room window. The quiet night life of New York scattered below them. 

“I had assumed so,” Miranda replied. (Honestly, she’d thought it was because of what she’d said. Andrea was loyal to a fault. Held her values to a fault.) 

“It’s difficult to hold onto your values,” Andrea whispered. Miranda laughed darkly. 

“Yes, it is.” 

(She could feel Andrea’s eyes on her. She always could.) 

“You look good tonight,” Andrea said earnestly. Miranda felt herself blushing. 

“As do you,” Miranda returned the compliment. Andrea stared at her. The wine was heavy in the air. Andrea still wore the Chanel No. 5 perfume. 

Slowly, very slowly, Andrea pulled her in, kissing her gently. She tasted like the wine Miranda had served and the dinner they’d shared and a great, heavy weight being lifted from Miranda’s shoulders. 

Her arms wrapped around the woman’s waist, pulling her impossibly closer. 

Miranda quite liked late nights with Andrea. 

**v.**

The fifth time Miranda shared a drink with Andrea they were in Miranda’s living room with an old black and white movie playing that Miranda didn’t recognize. 

The fireplace was burning brightly and Miranda wrapped an arm around Andrea’s shoulders. She was warm against her. 

“What is this about anyways?” Miranda asked quietly. 

“Have you not been watching?” Andrea asked, sitting up, scandalised. 

“Just you,” Miranda said, seriously. Andrea laughed. 

“Bad lines are a me thing,” she joked, leaning in to kiss her. 

Andrea tasted like coming home. 

**FIN.**

> _ “One day everything will be well, that is our hope. Everything’s fine today, that is our illusion.”  _ —Voltaire, “Poème sur le désastre de Lisbonne”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to [bringmayflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmayflowers)! (You better have liked it.) Comments always make an author happy.


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